


Proof of Life

by atlanticslide



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Episode: s03e19 Letharia Vulpina, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlanticslide/pseuds/atlanticslide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(spoilers through Season 3, ep 19)</p><p>For this prompt at the Teen Wolf kink meme:</p><p>  <i>I'd love to see Stiles consumed with guilty over what "he" did to Scott. He comes back to himself after the nogitsune is expelled and all he can think about every time he looks at his best friend is how he almost killed him, how he inflicted all that pain on him as Scott just looked at Stiles from inches away. Potential for lots of h/c. Lots of Stiles just wanting to touch and feel and make sure Scott is okay. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof of Life

Stiles is babbling. He does that a lot, and Scott mostly doesn’t even notice, but it’s tinged with panic or something right now, like – like, hysteria.

“Stop it,” Scott tells him, but Stiles just barrels on.

“I’m sorry, dude, I’m so sorry. I –”

“You didn’t.”

“ – stabbed you. I _stabbed_ you.”

“You _didn’t_ , Stiles.”

But it’s like Stiles can’t hear it, he won’t hear it, and he just ducks his head down and squeezes his eyes closed. 

They’re lying together on Stiles’ bed, pressed in close because it’s small and they’re both bigger than they used to be when they sprawled out together and read comics on this bed years ago. It’s weird sometimes to realize just how much older they are now than even just, like, a year ago. 

The only way Scott can really make them fit is with one arm pressed up against Stiles’s chest and the other slung over Stiles’ waist, their legs kind of tangled up, and it makes it hard to really see Stiles when they’re this close and Stiles has his head all tucked down, so Scott tries to nudge him a little, knocks their foreheads together lightly.

When Stiles looks back up, there are tears in his eyes.

“I have to, like, go away somewhere, I think,” Stiles says as he curls his fist into the front of Scott’s t-shirt.

“What? Go where? You’re not going anywhere.” Scott answers him in a hurry as nervousness continues to claw at his stomach.

“No, I – yeah, I have to, I have to be locked up or something,” Stiles replies, shaking his head. He doesn’t close his eyes again, though, keeps looking right back at Scott, so that’s a step forward or something maybe.

And. Well. It’s not like Scott doesn’t trust Stiles or something, but he really had looked just like Stiles and sounded just like Stiles and acted just like Stiles… it makes Scott feel a little better to be able to look him right in the eye and see that this really _is_ Stiles.

“Like – like maybe my dad could put me in a cell or something?” Stiles goes on, sort of shaky. His free hand is holding on to Scott’s waist, his fingers digging into the skin there, which is good because it kind of sounds like he might be shaking right apart. It feels good to have his hand there, pressing into Scott. Reassuring or something.

“You’re not a criminal,” Scott tells him, his voice soft. Stiles sighs heavily in reply. 

“But just to stop me from – ”

“It wasn’t _you_ ,” Scott cuts him off. He’s frustrated and tired and Stiles is too but Stiles is too scared and tense to sleep so neither of them are getting any rest and Scott kind of can’t remember the last time they really rested.

“It was, though.” Stiles presses his palm against Scott’s side even harder, then nudges Scott’s t-shirt aside with his knuckles and moves his hand up to trail along Scott’s ribs. It’s a welcome touch, if a little weird – they’ve roughhoused and they’ve given each other light smacks now and then and they’ve hugged and high-fived and clasped hands, but this touch feels kind of weirdly intimate in a way that none of those ever have, and Scott likes the feeling of the warm, kind of clammy hand that’s moving around to his back now.

“It – I could see everything that was happening,” he continues, rushing the words out. “And everything it was doing and I could see my hands moving and hear my own voice but I couldn’t actually say anything myself even when – even when I was _screaming_ , or, y’know, trying to – ”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott says, and Stiles sucks in a breath as he’s interrupted mid-stream. “You didn’t do anything. It wasn’t you.” Scott moves his own hand now, swoops down over Stiles’ back so he can shake him a little, then spreads his fingers out to smooth over the lines of Stiles’ t-shirt, sticky and damp with sweat.

Stiles gives him a long look before he says, “I stabbed you.” His voice breaks over the words. Scott starts shaking his head, but Stiles goes on. “I watched myself set up a trap that shot an arrow into Coach, and rig up a bomb to explode in my dad’s office that – it _killed_ someone, I knocked out Kira, _I stabbed you with a freaking sword in your stomach_.”

At that, the hand fisted in Scott’s shirt unclenches and Stiles moves to brush his fingers over Scott’s stomach, over the spot where he’d had a sword sticking out of him a few hours ago. Stiles’ fingers won’t find anything there, they both know it, but they’re stroking over the skin of Scott’s stomach, over and over like he’s looking for something there anyway.

They’re both quiet for a long time, staring at each other. Scott can’t really think of anything to say and Stiles, for once, seems to have run out of words, but he keeps on brushing his fingers around and up and down Scott’s stomach, feeling out the skin, while his other hand presses into Scott’s back. Scott’s hand mirrors Stiles, starts moving slowly up and down Stiles’ back before he really realizes it, feeling out the hint of muscle there and pressing between Stiles’ shoulder blades to inch him just a bit closer to Scott.

“I’m not locking you up,” Scott tells him quietly. He means it.

“Well,” Stiles replies, stretching the word out and trying (failing) to sound casual. “It’d be my dad, not you doing the locking up.”

“ _No_.” Scott gives him a small shake. “We’re not doing that, you’re not a criminal.” The thought of it makes him feel sick, scared, and he can’t stand it.

Stiles flattens out the hand resting on Scott’s stomach and presses it into Scott’s skin. It’s awkward with the way they’re lying and how close they are, but Scott’s muscles shudder under Stiles’ hand, some kind of nervous tension making him twitch and flutter as Stiles touches him.

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” Stiles whispers, his hand pressing into where there should be a scar.

“I’m fine,” Scott tells him. Stiles glances down, like he’s trying to be sure, which makes Scott smile despite everything. “I always get better, right?”

Stiles is still considering Scott’s stomach, still running one hand over Scott’s side and pressing the other into the skin by Scott’s bellybutton, still staring down at where the thing controlling him had run Scott through, as Scott feels something… shift or change or take shape, or something he can’t quite find words for. His heart rate has picked up, coming in fast, and he can hear Stiles’ heart beating loud and rapid in his chest to match. Scott’s breathing hard when Stiles looks up at him once again.

“Take off your shirt,” he tells Scott, and Scott doesn’t hesitate even at the surprise of the request, just struggles up enough to yank the t-shirt over his head awkwardly, growling a bit when it snags on his neck. Stiles helps him tug it off the rest of the way before pushing Scott to lie back against the bed.

“See?” Scott says, stretching out and jutting his chin down to gesture awkwardly at himself. “Totally fine.”

“I – I – can I…?” he asks Scott, and Scott doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking but he nods anyway, pleased when Stiles’ hands return to his skin, fingers spreading out across his chest and down his abs to settle once more over where the blade had been.

Stiles is panting now, breathing heavy and fast and it’s messing with Scott’s head, all of this, and he doesn’t want it to stop. There’s no room for them to really lay side-side-side with Scott on his back, so Stiles swings a leg over to straddle Scott’s hips and before he knows what he’s doing, Scott’s thrusting his hips up to meet Stiles’. Stiles shifts his gaze at that, from where he’d been staring down at Scott’s stomach up to meet his eyes, and Scott’s kind of embarrassed, wants to say something like, _fuck, sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing here, dude_ , but then Stiles settles his weight down on top of Scott and he’s hard – and shit, Scott is too, and he feels sort of out of control, but not that wild sort of scary feeling he had the first few times he touched Allison, more like – like he’s on a runaway train that just took off before he realized and suddenly he’s here in the dark with his best friend and wants so badly to kiss him.

Stiles just stares down at him, runs his hands back up from Scott’s stomach, slowly up his torso, fingers spread out so that they skim Scott’s sides, graze over his nipples, and it makes Scott desperate to touch Stiles back. He moves his hands roughly down Stiles’ sides over his shirt, digs his hands in briefly to twist up in the material before dragging it up. Stiles has to take his hands from Scott for a moment and lift his arms to allow Scott to pull his shirt off, and Scott spares a brief, fleeting thought to wonder what the hell he’s doing as he tosses the shirt aside.

The sound of Stiles’ heart beating chases the thought away, and Scott digs his fingers into Stiles’ bare skin, stares at his chest and thinks about kissing his shoulders.

“I kinda wanna kiss you,” he breathes out, and Stiles doesn’t quite burst out into a smile like Scott would really like to see, but his eyes do go wide and he nods jerkily, licking his lips.

“Yeah – yeah, okay, we can – I wanna kiss you too,” Stiles replies, but neither one makes a move for a moment.

Because yeah, it’s kind of awkward. Scott’s loved Stiles for years, before he ever loved Allison (before he ever even _knew_ Allison, or Kira), but they’ve been _friends_. They’ve never looked at each other this way, and it’s hard to really know where to start.

So he leans up on his elbows, and it’s kind of a weird position that means he has to shuffle around a bit to get comfortable and drops his hands from Stiles’ sides in the process. 

He means to take Stiles by the back of the neck, but before he can reach out Stiles’ eyes go even wider than they have been, his mouth twisting down unhappily, and he shouts, “Don’t!”

Scott drops back like he’s been slapped, scared, reality hitting him in a burst that this is stupid, of course Stiles doesn’t really want this, or him, and Scott is just about to wriggle his way out from under Stiles and dash from the bed to give him space when Stiles digs his hands into Scott’s shoulders.

“Please, um.” Stiles starts and then stops and looks away from Scott, down instead at the bedspread beneath them. “Can you just keep touching me? It feels – I just really need you to keep touching me.”

“Okay,” Scott says, and tugs gently at Stiles’ arm to get him to lean down so that they’re pressed chest-to-chest and Scott can let his hands roam more easily over Stiles’ back, his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair.

“You’re okay,” Scott tells him softly, trying to soothe. “I’m okay and you’re okay.”

He moves one of his hands around to grasp one of Stiles’ and squeezes Stiles’ fingers, then presses Stiles’ hand against his stomach over where the blade had been. They’re about as close now as they had been then, Scott and the thing occupying Stiles’ body, but there’s nothing of the nogitsune now in how Stiles is staring at him, his face slack and open and gazing at Scott like he wants _Scott_ and not Scott’s pain.

“See?” Scott says again as he presses their hands down over his own perfectly healed skin. “We’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Stiles kisses him then. For all of the lead up, Scott really isn’t expecting it when Stiles finally closes the gap and presses their mouths together, and it takes him a moment to get with the program and move his mouth against Stiles’, kiss him back. Stiles pulls back and Scott follows, not letting him pull away for too long.

When Stiles finally is able to pull away, after a few more pecks against his lips from Scott, he moves to Scott’s neck and it’s not so much a kiss as just pressing his mouth against the skin there, dragging his lips down and around and over Scott’s adams apple. Scott shivers at that, at Stiles’ tongue sweeping over his neck quickly, then again a little more slowly, like he’s trying things out and gaining confidence with it maybe, like he’s waiting for Scott to stop him.

“Feels good,” Scott tells him softly, definitely doesn’t want him to stop. His eyes droop closed.

Stiles doesn’t reply, just keeps moving downwards, pressing his mouth to Scott’s collarbone and moves both hands to grasp Scott’s wrists briefly before moving up to his shoulders, then back down – stroking up and down, kissing the middle of Scott’s chest and digging his fingers gently into Scott’s arms just above his elbows.

It takes him a moment, caught up in the feeling of Stiles’ skin pressed against his own, to notice that Stiles has stopped moving with his cheek against Scott’s chest, somewhere vaguely in the vicinity of his heart. 

Scott opens his eyes to look down and asks, “Stiles?” as he moves his hands up and down Stiles’ back again.

“Sometimes,” Stiles says, his lips brushing against Scott’s skin. “Sometimes I wish – it’s not that I really want to be a werewolf, you know? No offense. It’s just sometimes that heightened senses thing, I really wish I could do that. Had that. You can hear mine, right?”

Scott’s not sure what he’s talking about for a moment, but then his ears tune into that _thump thump thump_ once again, the steady – if a little quick – beat in Stiles’ chest. He nods when Stiles looks up at him with his eyes still wide and kind of serious.

“I can feel yours,” Stiles says, and at that Scott’s heart seems to beat even faster, harder.

“Told you I was fine,” Scott says, his voice coming out kind of strangled. 

“Yeah,” Stiles replies vaguely, breaking Scott’s gaze and moving down to press his mouth to Scott’s chest once again. 

He doesn’t really sound like he believes Scott, but Scott’s happy to let him go to town here. Especially because Stiles is licking Scott’s abs and that feels seriously awesome. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore his boner – and Stiles’ too, pressing against Scott’s leg through their jeans – and even his wolf is starting to claw just beneath the surface of his skin, begging to be let out. To roar or to growl or sit up and beg with his tongue hanging out or roll Stiles over and – and… well, Scott doesn’t really want to think too hard on that, but the point is he _wants_. Stiles. He wants Stiles.

When Stiles reaches Scott’s bellybutton, he swirls his tongue around the skin surrounding it and through the hair there, it takes all of Scott’s effort not thrust up and press his dick into Stiles. He wants so badly to open up his jeans, maybe ask Stiles to keep going down to his dick, and he’s half-expecting Stiles to just go for it, even though the idea also kind of freaks him out because he has no idea what the hell this all means except that it turns out they really like touching each other.

Scott doesn’t ask, though, and Stiles doesn’t go for it. Instead he moves back up a little so that he’s settled back against Scott’s chest and reaches back to grab one of Scott’s hands and bring it around in front of him. He runs his thumb over Scott’s palm, stares down at it for a long moment. His cheeks are flushed. Scott has to bit his lip at the sight. 

Stiles brings Scott’s hand to his mouth, bites down gently on Scott’s forefinger and then brushes his fingertips over each of Scott’s fingers, one at a time, then follows with his mouth. He finds Scott’s other hand and brings that one around too and gives it the same treatment, fingers running slowly over Scott’s.

“What’re you doing?” Scott asks as Stiles presses his mouth to Scott’s pinky.

“Counting,” Stiles replies softly without looking up, and Scott’s stomach twists almost painfully.

“Stiles,” Scott says. He takes his hands from Stiles’ grasp and brushes them through Stiles’ hair, down to shake his shoulders, trying to get Stiles to look up at him. When he does, Scott says, “this is real,” and Stiles nods but Scott’s still not sure whether or not he believes it, so he tugs at Stiles’ chin, pulling him up so Scott can kiss him again.

It last for a few moments, Scott getting his tongue into it and Stiles moaning a little and wriggling against Scott as Scott rakes his fingertips down Stiles’ sides, careful to keep his claws firmly at bay. His tongue catches with Stiles’ and it makes heat, desire flare through his chest.

Stiles pulls back with his tongue still sticking out, kind of hilarious, and he looks down at Scott like he’s flustered and says, “I… I…” and Scott half expects him to say _I love you_ , which would be weird, even though they _do_ love each other.

“I’m so jacked up, dude,” is what Stiles finally says, and yeah, Scott can feel it. His own dick is hard against Stiles’ and he jerks his hips up again to press them together harder.

They scrabble with their jeans. It’s a struggle to stop touching for a moment, but Stiles is leaning against Scott, pretty much resting on top of him, so it’s good enough for the moment just to feel their chests pressed together and their shoulders knocking and chins bumping into one another as they tear at their flies and each shuffle their jeans awkwardly down their hips.

When his hands are free again, Scott puts them on Stiles’ face, trying not to grab too hard, and Stiles’ eyes are so dark, so close to the nogitsune that Scott’s got this weird, jittery kind of fear thing mixing up with the desire flowing through his chest and he knows it’s Stiles but it’s all kind of confused and his dick is somehow getting even harder, more insistent. 

He brings Stiles’ head down to kiss him again, this time sucking just a little on Stiles’ lower lip so that Stiles presses his tongue against Scott’s mouth and licks there wakwardly. It’s a little sloppy but feels so good, and Scott lets himself moan softly, shivering when Stiles mimics the sound with one of his own.

Scott realizes all of a sudden that his hips have been moving, and Stiles’ too, they’re kind of thrusting at each other and it’s awesome to feel Stiles’ dick against his own, Stiles’ hands running down his hips and then back over his stomach again.

“Seriously, Scott, I gotta,” Stiles rushes out in a breath against Scott’s lips. His cheeks are blotchy red and his heart is hammering. “You gotta touch me, dude, seriously, I need a hand on my dick like _now_.”

Scott laughs at him, tipping his head back, and then leans back to kiss him again as he slings one arm around Stiles’ shoulders and moves the other down so that he can wrap his hand around Stiles’ dick. 

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, and it’s not nearly as weird as it should be, not even when Stiles licks his own hand and then reaches down to take Scott’s dick in return.

“ _Oh_ ,” Scott says, thrusting up into Stiles’ fist. Stiles thrusts his dick into Scott’s and it’s kind of fumbling – Scott’s never jacked it from this angle and they’re still pressed together so it feels sort of cramped, but good, really good, and it’s probably not going to take long.

“Scott,” Stiles says, and kisses him again as Scott fists his hand into Stiles’ hair. “Scott, Scott.”

Stiles keeps repeating it, which makes Scott want to smile. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d kind of expected Stiles to look like the nogitsune had made him look back in Deaton’s office, when the nogitsune had been near ecstasy on Scott’s pain. Stiles in ecstasy is different, his eyes wide open and staring down at Scott and his mouth forming around Scott’s name, his cheeks red and puffing, and Scott has to kiss him again. 

After his mouth, Scott kisses Stiles’ chin and bites his cheek and presses his face into Stiles’ sweaty neck and opens his mouth against the damp skin there and Stiles’ hand on his dick feels so, so good, sliding over the precome there and jacking it fast and twisting a little at the base... Scott comes suddenly, grunting and pressing up against Stiles, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Stiles, god,” he grits out as Stiles strokes him through the orgasm and it feels like he’s being wrung out.

After a moment Scott opens his eyes to find Stiles watching him, his own eyes wide as dinner plates. He squeezes Scott again and Scott squirms away, then notices that Stiles is practically vibrating against him. He’s still got his hand on Stiles’ dick and it occurs to him to get back to stroking him. Stiles sighs gratefully, biting his lip and leaning into Scott.

“I want your hand on my dick, like, forever,” Stiles tells him. Scott laughs and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Stiles is a little longer than Scott and a little thinner and it’s all still kind of weird, to be holding someone else’s dick and running his hand up and down and figuring out just how to touch it. He squeezes on the upstroke, not too hard, just like he likes it, and Stiles shifts a little at that and Scott’s not really sure if that means he likes it or not, but Stiles is still moving against him and mouthing at Scott’s neck, so whatever, Scott’s doing it right enough and they can try this again soon enough, get it down perfectly…

And Scott whispers, “Shit,” and tightens his free arm around Stiles’ shoulders as it occurs to him that they _can_ to this again, they could do this all the time, and he smiles at the thought.

Stiles is panting against Scott’s neck, hard and damp into Scott’s skin, and Scott moves his hand faster, in a rush to get Stiles there.

“Come on, Stiles, come on,” he says. Stiles moans out Scott’s name in response. 

He comes a moment later all over Scott’s hand with a stuttered sort of “uh, uh, uh,” and it’s so hot.

Scott doesn’t really know what to do with his hand, after, whether he should wipe it off somewhere or get up to go to the bathroom or like, lick it or something because that’s they do in porn, even though he never did that with Allison. Stiles wipes his own hands against the bed, so Scott follows suit. Stiles doesn’t look too concerned as he flops down against Scott, his chin resting on Scott’s shoulder.

“That was… huh,” Scott says after a moment, and Stiles laughs, the first time in what seems like forever. Scott squeezes his shoulder.

“Always so good with words, buddy,” Stiles replies, still laughing lightly. 

Scott smiles but doesn’t reply; he really doesn’t have anything he can think of to say. It’s nice just to be able to laugh together like this, makes him feel like nothing’s changed between them, at least not for bad.

They’re both quiet for a long time, though Stiles shifts around every so often like he can’t quite get comfortable, and Scott’s not totally comfortable laying like this either, but neither one of them makes any moves to get actually get up. It feels good even though he’s uncomfortable, feels good to still be touching. 

“You, um.” Scott clears his throat. “You wanna maybe get some pizza?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replies, and Scott squeezes his shoulder again, once more before they get up and awkwardly avoid one another’s gazes as they shrug their clothes back on. They’ve changed and undressed in front of each other like a million times before, but somehow this feels all different, and not bad exactly, just sort of hard to figure out.

Stiles is fiddling with the zipper on his sweatshirt, trying to get one end into the other with a tremor back in his hand that makes Scott’s stomach hurt to watch, so he takes the two ends from Stiles’ hands and zips it up himself, then closes his hands over Stiles’ to try to stop them shaking. He looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes and Stiles gives him a fleeting hint of a smile.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Scott tells him again, trying to make himself believe it as much as he wants Stiles to believe it. And he does, mostly. Even if it takes him biting Stiles, he’ll make it be okay.

Stiles nods, kind of jerky, and then leans forward to kiss Scott carefully.

The order pizza and they sit close together on the couch and they don’t talk about anything except what’s on TV and Scott really doesn’t want to leave, but he needs to see his mom, call Kira, maybe take a shower and change his clothes.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells Stiles as they stand at the front door like it’s the end of a date or something, and maybe it kind of is. 

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, shaking his head. He folds his arms across his chest and doesn’t look angry so much as nervous again, and weary. Exhausted.

“I’ll be back,” Scott repeats, and this time Stiles nods. Scott leans over to kiss him one more time before he goes.

He’s back less than two hours later, but the house is dark and the Sheriff’s car is gone from the driveway and Scott looks around like maybe Stiles and his dad are right behind him or something. He doesn’t know where they are, but he’s got a terrible feeling. It doesn’t take him long to pick up their scent, fear and adrenaline driving him on, and soon enough he catches what he’s sure are the Sheriff’s headlights on the road up ahead of him, follows them to where they’ve parked in front of… in front of that hospital. The one where Lydia thought Stiles had been stuck in the basement.

Stiles had wanted to be locked up.

Scott’s heart is racing. He tries to argue with Stiles, and with the Sheriff.

“Why are you putting him in here?” Scott asks the Sheriff, feeling desperate, desperate for Stiles’ dad not to let this happen. Scott could protect Stiles if they let him, could protect him even from himself.

“He’s not,” Stiles reminds him. He sounds defeated. “It’s my decision.”

“Stiles, I can’t help you if you’re in here.”

“And I can’t hurt you.”

Scott has to wonder if Stiles knew this whole time, the whole time they were together that he was going to do this. He’d made it sound like he was just desperate and strung out, just thinking of crazy ideas that he might be talked out of, but maybe he’d already made up his mind to lock himself away.

Stiles asks Scott to make sure he never gets out if things go wrong, if they really can’t fix this, and Scott can’t agree because it’s not possible that they won’t be able to fix this, it’s not possible that Stiles could stay in here forever.

But Stiles isn’t going to let him disagree either, especially when Scott can’t offer him anything other than promises right now. All he can really do is watch Stiles go.

He stands at the gate for a long time after it closes.

**-end-**


End file.
